


Waste of a Lovely Night

by BeezandBitches



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drinking, F/F, Getting drunk with your enemy to shittalk your coworkers, Songfic, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 12:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19701823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeezandBitches/pseuds/BeezandBitches
Summary: Beelzebub gets a text that changes everything.





	Waste of a Lovely Night

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all should listen to Lovely Night. It’s really good.

Beelzebub had a long, incredibly dull day. Well, no, that’s not quite right. They had a long, incredibly dull existence. Paperwork after paperwork, torture after torture. It was routine, it was menial, and it was  _ so  _ boring. But, they did work in Hell. They practically ran the place at that point. Armageddon made it clear that they would be the one in charge while Satan slumbered. All that meant for Beez was all complaints and papers meant to go to the big man would be stuck piling up inside their tiny, molding office instead. It was routine. It was just the usual grind.

One day, however, it was more than that. A new message came through a long-unused channel. 

Beelzebub’s phone chimed under a pile of papers. Their ringtone was barely audible under it all, but for everyone’s sake it should be known that it was a song by Voltaire. No, not the conductor, the bloke who sang  _ ‘Land of the Dead’. _ In fact, I’m quite sure that’s what the ringtone was.

Beez looked at the slightly vibrating pile of papers and pushed them aside, reaching for the phone. One of the many issues with Hell was having no caller ID, even on a smartphone. So, Beelzebub had to just answer the phone and figure out who it was.

“Who izzz thizz?” They buzzed. “I’m very buzzy right now, thizz better be important.”

Silence. Beelzebub was about to hang up when they heard a familiar voice on the other end.

“I suppose drinks would be out of the question then?” 

..Archangel Michael? 

Beelzebub put the phone back to their ear, confused. Why was an archangel calling them? More so, what was this about drinks?

“Michael? The bloody heaven are you calling  _ me  _ for?” Beelzebub questioned.

“Like I said, are you free to go get a drink? After everything, I think I need several. Gabriel’s too much of a baby to go get any. Are you interested or not?” Yeesh, he didn’t mince words, did he?

“You want to get fucked up with the Lord of the Fliezzzz? Rough turbulenzze hit you while you were flying or zzomething?” 

“I can always ask Uriel instead.”

“Now hold on, I didn’t zzzay no. Meet me at Creech’s Pub on Fifth tonight.” 

“Alright, wear something discreet. Humans can sense when you’re out of place. One of their more hellish traits.” Michael’s words held some truth. Demons, among other things, liked to judge people for what they wore. Angels did also, but they were less vocal about it. That’s what separates vanity and ‘sparing someone’s feelings’. The choice to open your big mouth and say something. 

The two hung up, and on both ends of the line they wondered to themselves.. What the hell is that night going to entail?

Well.. you see there’s an age old question. What happens when an angel and a demon walk into a bar together? Now, before I address that, have it be known that demons almost never would walk in with an angel in tow. That’s because demons aren’t very punctual by nature. They tend to show up nearly 20 minutes late to every occasion, and it is a fact that all clocks in Hell are 20 minutes behind to account for this.

Beelzebub walked into the bar in a less decorated suit, no plague-like boils on their face, but never leaving behind their fly hat. They’d look ridiculous without it. They scanned the bar and found Michael already there, dressed in a familiar pantsuit, jacket removed, and missing his usual sleeve ruffles. 

“Got an early zztart without me?” Beelzebub said, sitting down next to him, but keeping the distance. They were still adversaries after all.

“Demons aren’t known to be punctual so I thought it was best to get situated.” Michael swirled a glass holding some light pink drink in his hand. “For a greasy pub, they have a nice array of wines.”

“Don’t judge a greazzzy pub by its door zzzign.” Beelzebub raised their hand to the bartender. “Apple vodka with ice and pineapple juice.” 

“Mm, you’re good at suppressing that buzz when you want to.” Michael sipped his drink. It went down rather smoothly.

“Obviously. Can’t let humans realize what we are.” They said. “Might do you some good to remove the gold from your cheekbones.”

“Oh, please. Humans would kill to look like this. That’s why they invented fashion trends.” Beelzebub, thoroughly amused, gaped at Michael.

“Wasn’t it  _ your  _ lot that decided vanity was a sin? Can’t believe I get a front row seat to watch Michael be a complete douche-nozzzzle.” A tall glass of vodka was placed down in front of the lord who nodded at the bartender before they took a large gulp of it. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“Apple vodka and pineapple, eh? Didn’t know a prince of Hell had the stomach for such things.” Michael leaned on his hand, peering over at the demon.

“Just because I’m from Hell doesn’t mean I don’t have standards.” Beelzebub said. “Unlike you, sipping out of a wine glass in a pub. Get wild! The world’s gone tits up, might as well drown our misery in something stronger than what humans can get at a church!”

“You really do sound like a demon.” Michael said, as if that was supposed to be an insult.

“What elzzze am I supposed to zzzzound like? An aardvark?” Beelzebub retorted.

“Suppose you’re right. Might as well. With how absolutely shitheaded everyone upstairs is being, I might as well wallow here with you.”

“That’s the spirit! Oi, bartender! Get another one of those vodkas over here for the redhead!” 

———————

After nearly three solid hours of getting shit faced, the age old question of what happens when a demon and an angel walk  _ out _ of a bar together was answered. It was simple really, they walked out together, laughing and stumbling the entire way to a park beside the river.

“Gabriel’s such a dickhead!” Michael laughed. “One time he tried to claim my swordsmanship was rusty! Mine! The idiot hadn’t seen a weapon in two millennia and he wants to critique me.”

“That’s nothing.” Beelzebub waved their hand at Michael’s comment. “Hastur never turns in his files complete. How are we gonna properly torture people if you can’t get all the basic information on a bloody paper? Dagon’s ready to feed ‘em to the hellhounds.”

“Got your hands full.” Michael said as the two walked into the park. “Oh look, it’s already late.”

“Would ya take a look at that view?” Beelzebub ran closer to the water but not quite on the bridge.”

As they looked out at the glittery waters, they briefly noticed all the street lamps beginning to glow.

“The sun’s already gone.. All the lights are turning on.. And look at that, a silver shine that’s stretching to the sea.” Michael said, turning to the moon which barely peaked over the shimmering river view. “We’ve stumbled on a view that seems tailor-made for two.. What a shame those two are you and me.”

“Oh what, you don’t enjoy my company now?” Beelzebub drunkenly retorted. 

“I never said I did in the first place.” He said, taking a step forward onto the bridge. “I’m just saying. Some other two would love this swirling sky.” 

“Yeah?”

“But there’s only you and I, and we’ve got no shot.” Michael kept walking forward, turning around to view Beelzebub who was only a step behind him. “This could never be, you’re just not the type for me.”

“Oh really?” Beelzebub blinked and half-ran after Michael. “Says who?”

“Um, says me, obviously.” Michael answered. “There’s just, not a spark in sight.” He shook his head. ”What a waste of a lovely night.” 

“You could say that again, however..” Beelzebub stepped in front of Michael who halted in his path. “You say there’s nothing here, well let’s make something clear. I think I’ll be the one to make that call!”

“But you’ll call?” Michael asked, watching The Lord of the Flies spin on their heels, probably off balance from all the booze. He was cut off guard by Beelzebub pointing a finger right at his chest.

“And so what if you look cute in that polyester suit?” Beelzebub said.

“It’s wool.”

“You’re right! I’d never fall for you at all!” They crossed their arms defensively. “Especially since you’re a prat!”

“I never said- Alright, Beelzebub. You make your point. Cheeky little tart.” Michael muttered, his eyes never moving from the demon who leaned onto the bridge rail. “What’s all that matter, all I said was-“

“I know what you said! And maybe this appeals, to someone not in heels.” Beelzebub knocked the heels of their work shoes on the metal beside them. “Or to anyone who feels like there’s some chance. For romance.”

“Perhaps.” Michael walked up to the demon, both now leaning on the metal rail. Beelzebub looked over the angel, entranced by how the first gleam of moonlight hit him. His eyes turned to face the prince of hell, and they shone so nicely under the light..

“But, im frankly feeling nothing.” Beelzebub tilted their head away from Michael, hiding the blush. 

“Is that so?” Michael questioned, leaning in toward them.

“Heaven, it could be less than nothing.” They said, turning back to Michael. They were so close now.

“Good to know. So you agree?” Michael asked.

“That’s right.” Beelzebub nodded.

“What a waste of a lovely night.” The two said at once, staring deeply into each other's eyes. 

It was so quiet, so gentle. The only thing that could break this was one of them making a move.

And so, they both did.

In an instant, they threw everything they ever knew about hating the enemy aside, kissing passionately with only the moon as their witness. Beelzebub tugged at Michael’s hair and Michael sucked on their lower lip. 

They kissed, and touched, and felt every part of the other. They had no actual need for breath, but when they pulled apart they were out of it.

“Fuck, that was delicious.” Beelzebub moaned breathily, wrapping their arms around Michael’s neck.

“You taste like sin itself. It’s tantalizing.” Michael ran a hand up Beelzebub’s side which made them shiver. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this, should we?” They asked.

“Probably not. But who’s going to stop us?” Michael, for the first time in his life, was thinking about what  _ he  _ wanted. And if God could hear how he felt, there was a good chance he would fall. But, like vanity, the difference is choosing to be open about it.

“We’re not done here. There’s a hotel around, let’s go. Let me taste more of that divinity.” Beelzebub hissed into Michael’s ear.

“You little minx. Let’s hurry then.” Michael chuckled.

That night was one of the most passionate and steamy nights both supernatural entities every experienced. It wouldn’t be the last either. Whenever one or the other would text for drinks, it would be what followed. But, sometimes, they’d meet for less alcoholic events. And everytime they did meet, these sparks between them grew.


End file.
